


Black Cats & Magic Caps

by JazzRaft



Series: Make It a Triple [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Fluff and Humor, Food Porn, M/M, Magical Realism, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Ignis doesn’t ask for much. A quiet, unbothered existence, quality ingredients for a fair price, all the kitchen appliances to function as promised, and for the daemons to have the courtesy to leave him alone when he’s in the middle of a spell. Fortunately, he has Noctis for that. And even more fortunate, when the price for his protection nearly costs him that which he holds dearest, he has people who look out for Noctis, too.





	Black Cats & Magic Caps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aithilin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/gifts).



“A Beginner’s Guide to Basic Bread-making” by Ignis Scientia (use a pseudonym? post anonymously?)

**INGREDIENTS**

1 packet of active dry yeast

2 cups of warm water

3 tablespoons of sugar

1 tablespoon of salt

2 tablespoons of oil

1 package of flour

1 handful of favorite herb (optional)

**STEP ONE** : Optimize Your Work Space

_Perhaps not a step worth mentioning, since it should be common sense to prelude the start of any recipe with a comfortable space, cleared and cleansed for easy maneuverability, as well as for mental contentment. Working within a cramped capacity will reflect in the final product – toughened dough compacted by unnecessary clutter. Clear the chaos from your counter or table or wherever you prefer to work, set your tools and ingredients out where you can reach them, perhaps even consider measuring out your ingredients before you begin. Any recipe – especially bread-making – should be a simple, stress-free experience. Begin to make things less complicated by having a visually clear space to work with – play some relaxing music or work in silence, depending on your preference. Remove digital distractions such as your phone or a TV – for best results, bread-making should be a solitary, unplugged practice._

**STEP TWO:** Combine Ingredients

_In a large bowl – you’ll want to have something that allows you plenty of elbow room and won’t overflow once you start stirring – dissolve yeast into water – warm like a cup of coffee left out for half an hour (too vague? think of different analogy for final draft?). Once dissolved, add sugar, salt, oil, and 3 cups of flour to start. Beat until smooth – the easy way out is to use an electric mixer, but since you’ll be using your arms for the bulk of this project, might as well whisk it by hand as a warm up (rewrite this line? too demanding?). Add more flour until the mixture forms into the consistency of a soft dough – you’ll want it solid enough not to spill into a puddle when you remove it from the bowl._

**STEP THREE:** Form Dough

_Turn the mixture onto a floured surface so it doesn’t stick – you may need to add more throughout the process. Begin slowly, pacing yourself into a rhythm that best works for you, using the heel of your palm to press into the dough. Pull one end over the other, then press again. Continue this pattern until the dough smooths into an elastic ball. (Optional: at this point, add in your herbs as you knead). Visualizing an object of frustration as you knead the dough tends to help focus one’s energy into the task. Bread-making can serve as an easy and harmless catharsis to every day woes – office irritations, such as rude clients or negligent coworkers; family matters; relationship problems. As you pour your frustrations into the dough, you should find your pace moving quicker and more acutely. Once your dough has formed, your arms should feel slightly sore and your thoughts should feel as smooth as the dough on your board. (For particularly serious grievances, knead more than one ball. You can never have too much bread.)_

**STEP FOUR:** Let Dough Rise

_This is the part of the process where you walk away from the bread and the frustrations you’ve let into it. Place the dough in an oiled bowl and cover for about two hours. Clean yourself up, wash the flour and the herbs – if you used them – from your hands. Clean the dishes you used, clear the space you kneaded on, return your space to a familiar state. Now, sit down with a hot drink, a book to read, perhaps, or whatever banal task that requires next to no effort for you to indulge in while you wait for the dough to rise. Allow your arms to relax and your mind to recover from the deep cleansing you’ve put it through, airing out those dark crevices you’ve uprooted and allowing yourself to feel the lightness of your own mind._

**STEP FIVE:** Form Loaves  & Bake

_Once the dough has risen and your mind has resettled, form the dough into a loaf, place into a pan, and let rise for another thirty minutes. Place into a pre-heated oven until golden brown and fragrant – if you used herbs, the smell will be more pronounced for you to identify completeness. Remove bread from oven, let cool, cut, and serve – always serve yourself first, it’s impolite to make guests the guinea pig before you know the bread is good yourself…_

Ignis’s thoughts trailed off and he stopped typing, considering whether or not he could add a better stopping point. He scrolled back to the top in the hopes that he would find a clue for the best way of rounding the recipe off, re-reading the words in careful silence.

He reread them again, dawdling on the parenthetic reminders he’d hastily implemented for his future self – not expecting his future self to be ten minutes from first typing.

He huffed in annoyance. Well… that was a whole crock of shit, wasn’t it?

He sounded like a self-help book, or a yoga instructor, or worse, some new age hippie high off a mushroom they picked in their backyard because the “all natural” trend apparently didn’t abide by any form of common sense.

He sighed and slapped his laptop shut, almost hoping the autosave feature had stalled so he could lose the draft to the digital ether where it could never be seen by mortal eyes again.

His coffee was cold when he drew it to his lips, forcing him to look outside his window and judge just how much time had passed since he’d sat down. The August sunset was dark orange between the trees, gilding the leaves in gold and green, the depth of the shadows evidencing the lateness of the evening.

The bread was done. Rosemary and thyme were a thick perfume wafting throughout the house. He should have made the herbs mandatory in the recipe, he criticized himself, as he stood up from his desk and stretched, a stiff knot unspooling in the small of his back. Cathartic kneading only benefitted by aromatherapy, and most beginners could use all the help they could get when it came to clearing one’s mind.

But that was a thought for a future Ignis in an alternate reality where he wasn’t embarrassed to publish the damn thing.

The smell of the kitchen certainly helped to sooth his own irritation. He might not have a career in writing or advice columns, but at least he knew with confidence that he was good at baking. His heavy-handed vocabulary couldn’t take that from him.

He pulled the two loaves from the oven and breathed in the sightless steam of heated herbs from within the golden pillows of baked dough. He set them on the counter to cool, doubting that they would be waiting for the recommended measure of time – he was pretty hungry himself.

He glanced at the back door, set ajar off the edge of the kitchen into the garden. The dying sunlight cut across the tiled floor, bringing inside the smell of the earth and the flowers in full bloom. He checked the time on his phone to be sure that he’d measured the fall of the sun correctly.

Just as he was about to march out the door and put himself to searching, a small shadow scampered into the streak of sunlight, pushing through the door to click on four feet into the kitchen.

“You’re late,” Ignis accused the cat, glaring down at the little black ball of fur as he trotted up to his ankles.

He stared up at Ignis and purred, proceeding to wind his way around his legs in greeting, back arching and tail curling into a question mark, asking, “What’s for dinner?” Ignis rolled his eyes and picked his way around the little creature to set the table.

“It’s a holiday, you know,” Ignis chided, as his cat leapt up onto a kitchen chair. “You could give yourself a vacation day.”

The first day of August marked the beginning of the harvest season. His garden of herbs and vegetables and bushes of berries were in full bloom by now, ready at last to be cultivated for recipes throughout the latter half of the year. Ignis celebrated the achievement with little bombast, a humble collection of his favorite herbs for a loaf of bread was enough for him.

“You were muttering spells while you were kneading.”

When Ignis brought the bread to the table, Noctis was scratching his hair with four fingers and a thumb, pulling strands of dandelion leaves from behind his ear where they itched. “The daemons don’t take a vacation,” he yawned, stretching his arms over his head, back arching off of the chair.

“You could just tell me to shut up on the spell-crafting for a day,” Ignis muttered, completely unaware he’d been putting voice to his baking while he worked.

“You were concentrating,” Noctis excused him, arms folding on the table and reaching for a slice of bread. He smiled, “And besides, it was cute.”

Ignis sighed, but settled for the small space of time they set aside for celebration. It was better than having no one to share it with at all. They both buttered a piece of bread and lifted them into a toast.

“To a bountiful harvest,” they said in unison.

And if the flavor of the herbs was any indicator, it would be a bounty indeed. While Ignis chewed and Noctis purred in satisfaction, he glanced over at his companion and sighed in exasperation.

“Noct?”

“Yeah, Specs?”

“It’s a holiday. Please put on some pants.”

**Author's Note:**

> A new fluff challenge enabled by my partner in fluff, [Aithilin!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin) Because OT3s need more love, and because witches and kitties, of course.


End file.
